These are the thoughts
That go through my head
In my backyard
On a Sunday afternoon
When I have the house
To myself and I am not
Expending all that energy on fighting
With my boyfriend
Is he the one
That I will marry
Then why's it so hard
To be objective about myself
Why do I feel so cellulary alone
Am I supposed to live in this crazy city
Can blindly continued fear
Induced regurgitated
Life denying tradition
Be overcome
Where does the money go that I send
To those in need if we
have so much why do
Some people have nothing still
why do I feel frantic when I first
Wake up in the morning
Why do you say you are spiritual
Yet you treat people like shit
How can you say you're close to god
And yet you talk behind my back as though
I'm not a part of you
Why do I say I'm fine when it's obvious I'm not
Why's it so hard to tell you what I want
Why can't you just read my mind
Why do I fear the quieter I am
The less you will listen
Why do I care whether you like me or not
Why's it so hard for me to be angry
Why's it such work to stay concious and so
Easy to get stuck and not the other way around
Will I ever move back to Canada again
I'd be with a lover with whom
I am a student and a master
Why am I encouraged to shut my mouth
When it gets too close too home why can't I live
In the moment